Chapter Text
Anthony Bridgerton was lost.
Or at least, that’s how he felt. His life, ever since he was nineteen, was lived for other people. For that of his family, for that of his future.
Though he had practically trained his whole life to become viscount under the guidance of his father, losing that branch of education at nineteen, and being thrust into a position he was not prepared for shocked him. His whole life had been turned upside down, and the once rather charismatic, witty Anthony had to be placed on a shelf in the deep recesses of his mind.
His life mattered not, not when the lives of those he was in control of were in the forefront of his mind at every waking moment.
However, his thoughts towards his own life, his own happiness had changed when he met Siena. The incomparable opera singer who had a mischievous gleam in her gaze, that from the moment Anthony laid his eyes upon her, he knew he was in trouble.
Love and lust were two things Anthony Bridgerton prided himself on knowing rather well, and with Siena he had both. She was passionate and vivacious. He was an unsuspecting moth to her flame. He could not help but love her, despite how improbable such a match would be.
Did she deserve a man whom would be loyal to exclusively her? Without question. Was Anthony selfish enough in wanting his own happiness to want to keep her well into any nuptials he may have agreed to? Yes.
So, when he had, perhaps naively, asked her to attend the Hastings Ball with him it was out of sheer selfishness. It was a daydream he’d allowed himself to get lost in. Despite purchasing her a rather expensive bouquet, and showing up to her door, somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, Anthony knew she would not join him.
Her words still haunted him, as he stood in the courtyard of his sister and Simon’s home. There was not enough brandy in the world to sooth the ache he felt growing within the depths of his chest.
‘You need to let me go’
He took a deep swig of the brandy, not allowing himself to wince at the burn. He wanted to fight for her. To fight for his own happiness, yet he couldn’t. Anthony knew she was correct.
What would either of them gain from such an entanglement? Anthony had had his head in the clouds believing she would be accepted in society; she was nothing more than a dalliance. A dalliance that had caused his heart to grow and shatter within one fell swoop.
He looked around, noting all the glances being tossed his way. The people of the Ton were incorrigible. Despite not wanting to remain present, Anthony had to show a united front for his dear sister. If the Bridgertons were anything, they were loyal.
After rather short greetings to the happy couple, and his mama, Anthony had chosen a corner in which to sulk. He just had to save face for another hour at most, and he would be gone. Escaping to Whites where he could drink and gamble away his heartbreak. Not to mention, build the walls back up around his heart that Siena had so graciously broke down.
Despite the stupor and sour mood Anthony was bound to drink himself into, a flash of Yellow snapped him out of the small reverie he had found himself in.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Penelope Featherington. The Featherington girl was a friend of Eloise’s, and a practically semi-permanent fixture in their family dynamic. The two girls having being as close as they were, Anthony saw a lot of her - though, had scarcely ever spoken more than common pleasantries with the girl. From what he had heard from her though, she seemed to have a decent head on her shoulders, along with a seemingly sound mind, and a rather sharp wit.
Due to Penelope’s closeness with their family, Anthony normally did nothing more than the gentlemanly thing and offered her a dance at a social gathering. Always at his mother’s express wishes of course. However, Colin was usually the one to pick up the mantle; the two of them seemingly sharing a bond that Anthony had chalked up to their closeness in age.
Until then, of course.
Colin had joined Penelope on the sidelines, speaking to her intently and whether it was his own recent heartbreak, or the brandy; Anthony seemed to pick up on something that Colin seemed rather oblivious to.
Penelope had positively lit up when Colin had walked over. Her smile had forced her round cheeks up, and her back had straightened some, as if she were preparing herself to be more confident.
She cares for him a voice whispered, and Anthony bristled at that.
The part of him that was heartbroken wanted to go over to the pair and separate them. Loving someone was no use, it would only hurt Penelope in the end, especially if he had anything to show for his own experience. However, he stayed put, watching them intently over the rim of his glass.
He told her he is leaving the voice in the back of his mind said, noting the crestfallen expression that had taken over the young Featherington girl. She looked beside herself, and Colin, the oaf of a man did not seem to notice.
Despite how horrible the predicament, Anthony let out a small, dark chuckle. At least he was not the only one feeling heartbreak.
Penelope, in all her frustration quickly walked away from Colin, right past Anthony and towards the refreshment table. Lemonade had always been her preferred choice of drink, if he remembered correctly.
Colin seemingly did not notice him standing there, for he just stared at the spot Penelope had been standing in, looking rather perplexed. Despite wanting to reach out to his brother and offer a solid pat on the back, Colin was a man grown. Penelope was still a dejected and seemingly rejected young lady, and after all - misery enjoyed company.
The viscount pushed off of the stone column he had been leaning against and slowly trailed after the petite Featherington.
✥ ✥ ✥
“…I’m leaving first thing tomorrow morning, I’ll begin my tour. I’m to start in medditerania - it was actually you who inspired me you kept reminding me how much I longed for travel…”
Colin was leaving. Colin was leaving and Penelope had been so close to admitting her love for him. She had loved him since she was 16, and her bonnet had first flown in his face. To love someone for so long, only to have them not only almost marry one’s cousin, but also leave. Penelope was beside herself.
Of course Colin would not want to stay, why would he? No doubt, if she had been courageous enough to admit her true feelings, he still wouldn’t have stayed. Colin did not feel for her the way she felt for him. She was Penelope Featherington, wallflower extraordinaire.
Despite her continued success with Lady Whistledown, Penelope could not take the confidence and gravitas she exudes as the notorious author and apply it to her everyday life. Especially not in regards to Colin. He had been so downtrodden with the news about Marina, to see him so utterly excited for something – well it wouldn’t have been fair to let him know the truth about her feelings. It wouldn’t have done him any good anyways.
Penelope took a generous sip of the lemonade in her hand, finishing it in one go. It was not ladylike, and her mother would no doubt scold her had she seen, but at that moment, Penelope did not care. All she wanted was to distract herself from the pain that was taking root in her chest.
“Miss Featherington,” a familiar voice sounded from behind her. It was not Colin, that much she knew. It was however, one of the Bridgerton men. No other men spoke to her, and no doubt it was to persuade her onto the dancefloor at their mama’s insistence.
Mustering up whatever was left of her propriety, Penelope turned to face the man who had spoken to her, surprise jolting through her when she noticed it was Anthony.
The eldest Bridgerton son was not as well known to her as perhaps Benedict or Colin. Anthony was always busy with the running of the household and estate, only conversing with her the odd time he joined the rest of the Bridgerton clan for tea, or whilst dancing.
“M-my lord.” She replied, curtseying slightly. Her body was still stiff after being caught off guard by the Viscount. “I did not see you there, are you having a pleasant evening?” She inquired, attempting to muster up the politest smile she could. Though, the question was perhaps redundant. Taking a good look at the viscount told her that he was indeed not having a pleasant evening. He looked forlorn, with rather red puffy eyes, and a look in his gaze that spoke volumes.
He was just as heartbroken as she was.
As Whistledown, it was Penelope’s prerogative to know the ongoings of many in the Ton. She knew well enough that Anthony was a rather popular man with the ladies, specifically one in particular. Could it have been something between them that could create such an obvious change to his otherwise handsome countenance?
Anthony, ever the gracious gentleman offered Pen a rather tight-lipped smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “It is well enough,” he replied, hand raising slightly so that Penelope could note the glass of amber liquid. It looked rather close to what her father had in his study, and her lip twitched. It was not polite for young ladies to indulge in such vices, and having never had a drop she did not know what it tasted like, but Penelope was envious at his liquid escape.
“How is your evening, Miss Featherington? I admit I only just arrived a few moments ago but your dance card looks rather empty” He stated, motioning to the paper carefully tied about her wrist.
It was just what Penelope had been afraid of. Lady Bridgerton had set him up to task of asking her to dance, seeing as Colin had failed so miserably. “I – Yes, it is rather.” She replied, pausing for a moment as she looked down at the empty paper, silently cursing it. “I am afraid I am not much in the mood for dancing tonight, despite how wonderful the event is.” Penelope was careful with her words, not wanting to insult the duke and duchess – especially considering Daphne was Anthony’s sister.
“That is a shame,” Anthony began, taking one last swig of his brandy and placing the glass down on the other side of her with a rather final thud. “For I had planned to ask you to join me on the dancefloor.” He mused, gaze finding her own rather nervous one. His deep brown eyes were practically searing into her, and it made Penelope shift a little uncomfortably.
“I am sorry to disappoint you my lord,” she began, only for Anthony to raise a brow at her.
“However, I am afraid I must insist.” There was not an offer in his tone, it was final. She was to dance with him no matter how much she wished to dash off into the night.
Penelope glanced around at the others in attendance. There were a few eyes on them, speculatively watching a viscount speak with someone so easily forgotten. A slight red hue made its way into her cheeks and Penelope gave him a kurt nod. She could not very well turn down a dance with a viscount, especially not one with whose family she held in such a warm regard.
Anthony offered her his arm, ever the proper gentleman, and she took it as he led them onto the dancefloor. The orchestra was priming for a waltz, whatever Anthony had up his sleeve, the dance was perfect for it.
He took her into his arms as the dance required, but the heat radiating off of him made Penelope’s breath catch. She was uncomfortable, and upset, and dancing was certainly not what she was inclined to partake in.
Once the dance began, she gave it a few moments before opening her mouth. Anthony, almost reading her mind spoke first, quickly quieting her. “I am sorry for my rudeness in asking you to dance, Miss Featherington,” he started, his gaze intent on her features.
It was as if he was attempting to assess her, to reach into the depths of her mind and learn about every secret that she kept close to her heart. It caused Penelope to flush and glance away from him, as if doing such a thing would help.
“I wanted to speak to you of something that I feel neither of us would enjoy the rest of the room listening in on. At least this way, our words are kept mostly secret by the volume of the music.” He continued, absentmindedly squeezing her hand.
Penelope swallowed thickly as she glanced up at him through her lashes, “Whatever could warrant such privacy, my lord?” She inquired, panic starting to replace the pain that Colin had instilled within her.
Did Anthony know about her secret? Did he know she was Whistledown? Her heart began to race within the confines of her chest, anxiety running through her as she watched Anthony attempt to pick and choose his words.
“I would hardly call this private, just more hidden in plain sight,” he paused briefly and inched a little closer to her, his breath hot on her cheek. “I am sure this will sound forward, and I assure you I do not mean it thus… It is just that I would like you to know that you will find someone who treasures you the way you deserve to be. My brother – “he paused again, a deep sigh coming from him.
Penelope could smell the brandy on his breath and she pursed her lips. He knew? How did he know of her feelings for Colin? Surely it was not that obvious? Dread made its way into her mind and she paled. If it was so obvious to Anthony, surely Colin could see how she looked at him, the longing stares as he danced with Cressida Cowper, or laughed at something another lovely lady said. “I-I do not know what you are assuming I feel for him, but your brother is a good friend of mine, my lord.” She started, daring a glance at Anthony.
The look he returned was not one of pity, not one of frustration, but one of understanding. It told Penelope that he knew about her feelings for Colin, but that he also knew the pain that she was feeling.
“I have no doubt that he is a good friend to you Pen,” The nickname that had been bestowed upon her by his other siblings tumbling from his lips sounded odd, but not entirely foreign either. “I simply doubt his intentions towards you, and as someone who cares for both of you, I am only saying this to look out for you. I would not like to see you hurt.”
Her brows furrowed as she looked at him, her steps concise as she let Anthony lead them in their waltz.
“Anthony,” She whispered, quickly glancing at the other couples around them. “I appreciate your attempt at protection, but you cannot stop me from being hurt just like you cannot stop the passing of time.” She was a wallflower; she was bound by divine design to live a life in tandem with pain.
His brows furrowed, and for a moment in time Penelope thought he was going to become cross with her. Instead, he took her hand and led her off the dancefloor. The music had come to a close and Pen had been too distracted to notice.
“Perhaps you are right, but I thought that you should be aware that someone is in fact in your corner, Penelope Featherington.” He stated, taking her hand and placing it in the crook of his arm.
“I am glad I have you Bridgertons,” she mused thoughtfully, reminiscing over the love and care she received from Eloise and her mother. Not to mention Colin and Benedict, and now it seemed Anthony himself. “You are my allies in this world, and I fear with how the Ton can be I need it more than I care to admit.”
“I am glad to hear it, and I hope we can continue to be that support for you, even long after you are wed.” he mused, hoping that Penelope would find herself in an advantageous situation and find herself out of love with his brother and in love with someone else.
Penelope waved her hand absentmindedly at his notion. “I very much doubt I will be wed, but I endeavour to be an unrelated Aunt Penelope to all you and your siblings’ children.” She replied with a small chuckle. Penelope had settled within herself long ago that she would no doubt be a spinster. The beginning of the season had simply solidified such notions. She would be nothing more than an aunt, forced to live off of other peoples’ charity until she finally passed away at a ripe old age. Forced to live her last year’s remembering loves once lost.
Considering she was so busy with her own thoughts; Penelope completely missed the confused and slightly heated look the viscount laid upon her. His thoughts completely masked by his countenance.
“Whatever the future holds for you Penelope Featherington, I hope you find happiness in it.” He stated, stopping once they made it back to the refreshment table. “For my own piece of mind however, I will say that any man would be lucky to have such an intelligent and kind woman as his wife.”
Her gaze found his then, curiosity mixed with something else Penelope could not quite pin point lying behind her blue eyes. His brown eyes were looking into her again, and Penelope took a step back, finding that the heat source Anthony had provided left her cold, and shockingly wanting.
“I-I thank you, my lord.” She let out, voice soft and slightly caught.
In return, the eldest Bridgerton gave her a slight nod. “I will leave you now, but please remember what I have said tonight.” With a slight pause, Anthony assessed her before bowing and walking away.
Penelope stood there for a few moments, watching him as the Viscount Bridgerton disappeared into the crowd of people. What had transpired between them was odd. They had never been close, but Anthony seemed to want to take on a position of protector for her – even if it was protecting her against herself and his own blood. It had never occurred to her that such thoughts would even cross his mind in relation to her, and yet it had. They had shared a waltz, and perhaps a moment? No. She was being foolish, there was no moment, but Anthony Bridgerton had certainly surprised her.
She was so caught up in her reeling thoughts that it wasn’t until everyone began seeking shelter, that she realized it was raining.
With a slight flush to her cheeks, Penelope headed towards an exit, remembering rather unfortunately late that she had a paper to publish. Damn Anthony and his need to act as her knight in shining armour.